You can read the final chapter of Nobody Knows Me here!
The sunshine was bright, and it came down casting Norman’s shadow just shy of Asp’s curled legs in the back. The space for Asp was tight–even smaller than her jail cell had been. At least I’m not locked in. Norman had stopped in the first town along the way and stocked up on as many basic goods as would fit around Asp. The cart bumped over uneven road and steadied, the strong horses ahead pulling them along.
“Hey, Asp? You doin’ okay back there?”
Asp smiled. Norman had checked in every few hours since they’d left. “I’m great, Norman. Just like I was a while ago.”
“Just checkin’,” he said, his eyes on the road. “Hungry?”
Asp laughed lightly. “I would have thought that was covered by ‘doin’ okay.’”
Norman turned and looked back at her. “Just checkin’,” he said again, turning back to the road.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “Hungry?”
Norman chuckled. “I’m fine. A little bored, actually. How’s about that tale you owe me?”
Asp smiled to herself. What do I give him? The poor starving girl routine? The thrill of living on my wits? The tragedy of losing everyone I know? She studied the back of Norman’s head. His fuzzy light brown hair looked like failing grass, and his coarse tunic seemed a size too big. You know what? He saved me–he earned the truth.
“Are you sure you’re ready?” asked Asp playfully. “It’s not an ordinary tale.”
“I’m ready,” he said with mock impatience.
Asp sat up straight and breathed in deeply. She closed her eyes, began to speak, and stopped. She opened her eyes and asked, “Where do you want me to start from?”
Norman shrugged. “Wherever feels right.”
Ash considered, then took another deep breath and closed her eyes. “When I was six, I realized I could lie instead of stealing. That changed my life. I had been so hungry all the time, but lying kept me fed. I had been in trouble with my family all the time, but lying got me out of trouble. Whenever I needed something, lying could get it for me. I think that I just learned that lying was the way of doing things, even if other people weren’t doing it too. You know, I could never explain it then, but I think I just figured it was okay because if it wasn’t okay, it wouldn’t work. You know?”
Norman made a noncommittal sound.
“Anyway, I got pretty good at conning people, and I could provide for myself well enough. I had savings, I had a place; all my needs were met. I thought at the time that I was pretty happy, actually. I mean, I was living a pretty good life without having to work too much. At one point, I let some guy convince me to cut all the honest work and be a con full time. Ended up a pretty good choice. Before my thirtieth birthday, I had more coin saved than I could imagine spending. I actually decided to invest in this little winery back where I’m from.”
Norman let out a breathy “Oooooh.” He turned back to face Asp again. “Really?”
Asp laughed. “Yeah, absolutely. Thimblefull Vineyards–if you ever end up in Eunax, look for a bottle. They’re incredible.”
“Thimblefull?” repeated Norman. “You don’t mean the Thimblefull Vineyards?”
Asp furrowed her brow. “You’ve heard of them?”
Norman scoffed. “Most everybody in Menoterra’s heard of them. About a year ago, they started exporting everywhere. Everybody loves the stuff. At least, when they can get it. You said you invested in them?”
Asp was trying hard to not laugh, but couldn’t manage it. “I’m the one who got them to sell outside of Lowglen, and I gave them the money to expand their vineyards and orchards. Shit, Norman, I had the idea for their signature line. Or at least, it was when I still knew them.”
“You don’t mean the Reserve? The fruit wines?”
Asp laughed again, loudly this time. “Good ol’ Rick and Ginger. Good for them. I hope they’re doing well.”
Norman shook his head. “Okay, so you became an expert con artist and successful investor . . . why haven’t you talked to the vineyard people again? And how had you not heard about how well they’re doing?”
Asp smiled deviously. “Both answers will come in time. Let me tell my story.”
“Sorry,” muttered Norman. “Continue.”
“So I’m all set up and comfortable, and I have this adorable kitten, and everything’s great. And then one day, I get into an argument with my mom. She says she’s heard I’m up to some criminal stuff. Now, I know that you’re thinking, ‘Should have taken that more seriously.’ But the thing is, my mom was accusing me of criminal stuff since I was a kid! Can you imagine accusing a six-year-old of a crime?”
“Didn’t you say you were stealing and conning at six?” Norman’s voice was pointedly neutral.
Asp frowned. “That’s true. I mean, she wasn’t wrong. But it’s not right, either. If a kid is so hungry they take to a life of crime, isn’t it better to feed them more than to throw them in jail?”
Norman shrugged. “I mean, obviously it’s better to feed the kid.”
“Exactly!” cried Asp, pointing a finger into the air. “It’s obvious, and yet she didn’t do it. But that’s not my point. My point is, she said she heard I was mixed up in something. By the way, would you believe the guy who ratted me out to her was the same guy who convinced me to go full-time? Life is strange.”
“Why would he do that?” asked Norman. “If he helped you, why would he hurt you too?”
Asp laughed bitterly. “Because that’s how some people are.” She heard her own voice and cringed. “I dunno. I have a tale, Norman, not answers.”
Norman was quiet for a moment. Eventually, he said, “So he ratted you out to your mom. Then what?”
Asp exhaled sharply. “I was distracted by this detective who was hassling me, and just as I deal with him with an expert stroke of con craft, there’s my mom with a couple big guards. She said, ‘I’m sorry,’ like that would mean anything to me. I ran. I lost everything. Almost everything, I guess. I kept some clothes and a coinpurse to start over.”
Norman turned around, his face tensed. “You lost everything, just like that?” He seemed agitated. “You can lose everything in a second?”
Asp looked sadly back at him. “Anybody can lose everything at any time, Norman. But if you haven’t learned that yet, maybe the fates are smiling on you. There’s hope yet.”
“So what did you do?”
Asp’s gaze grew distant. “I met a man who said he could help me.”
Norman waited for more. “And did he?”
Asp sighed. “For a while, I suppose he did.”
Norman turned around, his eyes soft. “You doin’ okay?”
Asp looked back at him squarely. “I think I’m a little tired. You mind if I continue the story after a nap?”
Norman smiled. “Sure thing. Get some rest.”
Asp flashed a smile and curled up on the floor of the wagon. For a while, she pretended to sleep, forcing her lungs to take long, slow breaths with pauses in between. She tried to focus on something besides Oslo, and as her mind settled into a pattern of resisting and giving in to fixating, she did eventually truly fall asleep fitfully.
—
Asp woke up and tried to gather herself. The sunlight had slanted a bit–she must have been out for between an hour and two hours. The cargo had shifted slightly, and she was pressed up against a barrel of flour. She frowned. We’re not moving.
“Norman?” she said.
“Who’s that?” came a thick voice from outside the wagon.
Shit. What’s this? She climbed forward and peeked out next to Norman. On the ground were two armored humans, both wielding pikes. One wore a waxed mustache, and the other was shaved bald. The bald one spoke.
“The plot thickens,” he said. “I was just informing your friend here that your wagon is ours now, in case you didn’t hear. Why don’t you come down from there?”
Asp’s mind raced. She felt herself back in the darkened woods with Rana and Pyrin, the club impacting her head, the soreness in her feet as she hobbled home. Not again. I will not let this happen again.
“I don’t think you understand the situation, actually,” she said diplomatically, folding her hands in front of Penelope’s dress. “We work for Butterfield.”
The mustachioed man cocked an eyebrow. “Butterfield? Who the hell is Butterfield?”
“And why should we care?” added the bald man.
Asp smiled ruefully. “You don’t know Abner Butterfield?”
The mustachioed man furrowed his brow. “No, we don’t know any Abner Butterfield.”
“That’s right, Jed,” said the bald man, glaring at Asp, “and it wouldn’t matter anyhow if we did.”
Asp chuckled sweetly. “Name the three most powerful crime lords in the region.”
Jed glanced at the bald man. “Uh, Zeke?”
Zeke smiled confidently. ”Oscar Handler, easily. Winnifred Dubner, most would say. And for the third . . . I guess that would have to be Paul Brinson.” He looked satisfied with himself. “And ain’t a one of them a Butterfield of any sort.”
Asp shook her head gently. “Do you know what all three of them have in common?”
Zeke frowned. “They’re crime lords. Obviously.”
Asp smiled as though Zeke were a little boy. “Obviously. Less obviously, they all work for the same person: Abner Butterfield.”
Jed gasped, and Zeke spun to glare at him. Zeke turned back to Asp. “Ain’t no such thing. You’re tellin’ lies.”
Norman let out an anxious yelp. Asp poked him sharply in the ribs.
“I’m not lying.” She gestured around herself at the wagon and at Norman. “Look at us. A little newtkin and a littler slightkin, out on the roads alone and ostensibly unarmed. We have nothing of apparent value with us. Consider the possibilities: either I’m lying to protect a barrel of flour, or I’m telling you that Butterfield wants to quietly move something that’s hidden inside the barrel of flour.” She paused to thump a fist against a barrel, making a satisfying thunk. “You could imagine that I’m desperate to protect some flour . . . or you could choose to protect yourself against consequences I’m afraid you can’t begin to imagine.”
Jed squirmed. “I don’t like this, Zeke.”
Zeke once again spun and looked angrily at Jed. “Shut up. This is just a normal wagon, there is no Butterfield, and this slightkin is just trying to avoid a beating.”
Norman once again squealed, looking nervously toward Asp.
This is like any other con. They noticed the real stakes, but that doesn’t mean the game is over. I can add something more.
Asp climbed the rest of the way up onto the top of the wagon, standing beside Norman. “I used a very particular word, gentleman, but I’m not sure you’re acquainted with its meaning. I said the word ‘ostensibly.’ Do you know what that means?”
Jed sadly shook his head. Zeke scowled. “It means ‘with lots of energy.’”
Asp smiled and shook her head. “It means, ‘apparently.’ ‘As can be observed.’ ‘By the look of it.’ Which would mean that what I said means . . .”
Jed puzzled over the idea, looking down at the ground intently. Zeke looked open-mouthed ahead, then declared, “It means we’re gonna kick your ass.”
But before Zeke could step forward, Jed spoke. “It means you’re not unarmed.”
Asp smiled dangerously and pulled her black dagger from her pack. “Gentlemen, I have killed before.” She leaned in slightly and abandoned all expression. “And I will kill again.” Please let that part be a lie. “Do you want to be my again?”
Jed took a step backwards, and Zeke flinched before saying, “You threatening me?”
Asp laughed derisively for an uncomfortably long moment. “Ezekiel, please hear me when I say this: I have been threatening you since we started speaking.”
Zeke frowned but didn’t move. Slowly, his off-hand reached for his pike’s handle.
Asp stood up straighter. “Are you a betting man?”
Surprised, Zeke froze. “Uh, not much.”
“Why not?” Asp’s eyes bore into him.
“Seems like throwing money away,” he said, eyes narrowed.
“So you do know caution,” said Asp. “Tell me, is it cautious to attack an armed and trained agent of a powerful crime lord carrying an important shipment to that powerful crime lord? Or would that qualify more as recklessness, like throwing money at a dice game?”
Zeke stared back at her, unblinking. After a tense moment, Jed tugged on Zeke’s armor. “We should go, Zeke.”
Zeke glared at Asp a moment longer, lowered his pike to his side, and turned and marched off into the woods off the road. Norman sat rigid on the seat, watching the armed humans troop away. Asp patted him on the shoulder and began to climb back into the wagon.
“You did pretty good there, Norman,” she said once he had started the wagon’s horses forward. “You kept your cool.”
Norman made inarticulate noises for a moment, then managed to say, “I did?”
Asp chuckled. “You could have freaked out and ran away or said I was lying or just started sobbing or something. I’ve seen it before.”
“Pretty low bar for success.”
“True, but we’re riding away without any bruises or puncture wounds, so I call that a victory.”
Norman turned and considered Asp. “Where the hell did all that Butterfield stuff come from?”
Asp smiled. “I dunno. It’s a variation on a gambit I used to run back in Thistlewade. You get them to give you the information about the crime bosses, and you just claim to have a common leader beyond that, and it looks like you know what you’re talking about.”
Norman’s eyes were wide. “Wait, Butterfield is made up?”
Asp burst into laughter, gasping for breath. “Yeah, I made him up. Sounds like a legit human name, right?”
Norman laughed in disbelief, then turned back to the road. “Holy shit. You know, I gotta admit, all the stuff you said earlier–I didn’t believe most of it. I mean, I didn’t think someone could just lie their way into or out of anything. But that . . .” He twirled his hand around in the air, looking for the right words. “That was proof. You really are one scary con artist.”
“Oh hush,” said Asp playfully, though she knew she was hurt as well as proud. “I’m on your side, so you have nothing to worry about.”
“I sure hope so.”
Asp found a comfortable position among the cargo, sliding things this way and that until an Asp-shaped space existed for her to relax. That definitely went better than last time. But it’s still a long road to Pyramis. She sat and focused on her breathing, which was still irregular from the conflict, and in the space between her breaths, she tried to be grateful for freedom.
—
The wagon bumped along the road, and the late afternoon wore on. Norman hummed a tune to himself without much attention to pitch. Asp endured the off-key whistling for a few minutes, then interrupted.
“How much farther?” she asked.
“About halfway now. I bet we’re in Westfall now,” said Norman. “Hey, you owe me the rest of your tale.”
Better than that whistling, she thought. “Okay. Where did I leave off?”
“There was a guy who could help you.”
Right. Oslo. “Yeah, he told me about how he’d been watching me, and he wanted me for his gang. So we sailed to Strey, and he gave me a test to see if I’m good enough–which, what was the point of watching me if I still have to prove myself?”
“That’s dumb,” said Norman.
“It is dumb,” she replied. “But I passed the test, and I joined the gang, but they wanted me to do something that I wouldn’t do.”
“Like what?”
“Uh . . . it’s kind of sensitive, Norman.”
“You can tell me!” he chirped.
“Not like that,” she said. “It’s . . . they wanted me to sleep with this guy so we could pull a job. But I didn’t like it, so I came up with another plan, and we did that. After that, the gang still didn’t trust me, so I kept trying to win everybody over. And eventually, I did. I mean, mostly, anyway. I was pretty close to all the girls in the gang, especially our cat burglar, and I could trust a few of the guys. It’s funny–the thing that was hardest at first, which was getting along with everybody, ended up being the thing that made me stay. I could have done just about as good solo when it came to money–and I did, remember–but working with everybody . . . it was like having a family.”
“But you had a family,” countered Norman.
“Yeah, but only technically. My family didn’t understand me–they barely even knew me. And I couldn’t have fun with them. I mean, my dad could be fun, but . . .” Asp trailed off.
“What’s up?” asked Norman, concerned.
Asp looked down at the floor of the wagon. “Sorry, he passed away, and things were complicated, and . . . it’s not even what this story is about, anyway. All that matters is that the gang kind of understood me and treated me like a person. And that was something I never had when I was working alone.”
“So, it sounds like you had it all figured out–good job, good people, enough money,” said Norman, his voice faraway. “That easy?”
Asp scoffed. “It wasn’t easy. I had to prove to people that despite being a con artist, I won’t lie to them. I had to learn to live by other people’s rules instead of my own.”
Norman’s shoulder’s slumped. “That sounds complicated.”
Asp smiled. “It was complicated. I guess that’s the price of this life. After all, I am spilling my life story so I can be cargo in a wagon–nothing’s simple.”
Norman laughed, but there was an edge to it. “You know, Asp, I think you’re right. Nothing’s simple. Not for anybody.”
Asp leaned up and patted Norman on the back. “You want to talk about it?”
Norman went rigid and stammered. “I’m fine. I mean, it’s just normal stuff–I don’t know what to do with my life, I get lonely, there’s never enough money to be comfortable. But solving those problems is hard, and sometimes new problems come up. It’s just complicated.”
“Then you get it,” said Asp, unsure of whether she meant it. “So life in a gang was everything for a long time. I pulled off exciting heists, I partied with my friends, I found love–” Shit, I did not mean to say that. Please don’t ask–
“Ooh, love!” giggled Norman. “Tell me about him.”
Asp smiled to herself and thought about Candace. There was still the familiar pain, the tightness in her chest, when she thought of Candace, but in the last few months, that had given way at times to genuine gratitude for their time together.
“He was tall and thin, even by elven standards. Graceful like you wouldn’t believe. He could walk into a room with a pile of coins, and you wouldn’t notice him until he was right next to you–and sometimes, not even then. He always dressed in black, like he hated to see colors, but he loved how colorful my outfits are.” Asp’s mind swam as she considered other details to include. “And he had this way of taking everything either totally seriously or not seriously at all. Sometimes, you didn’t know which you’d get with him–it always kept me on my toes.” She could see Candace’s face before her, and she felt hypnotized. “And the loveliest eyes! Oh, she had this heart shape in her eye; they were green, but the heart was like honey.”
Norman cleared his throat. “She?”
Asp’s guts clenched. Fuck–did I just out myself? “I’m sorry, I misspoke,” she said quickly.
“I dunno,” Norman said. “Are you–do you like girls?”
Dammit, he’s gonna throw me off his wagon, and it’ll take me forever to get anywhere, assuming that Jed and Zeke don’t come back–
“It’s okay,” said Norman, turning to face her. “It’s fine if you do.”
Asp stared back, unsure of what to say. Finally, she sighed and said, “I do, actually. And I hope that isn’t a problem, because–”
“I like guys,” said Norman. “It’s okay–I understand.”
Asp sat blinking, staring back at Norman. “Lonely. You said you were lonely. Of course.”
Norman smiled with a touch of pain, then turned back to the road. “I’m glad you weren’t lonely for a time. So how did that all end up?”
Asp looked glum. “We’re not there yet. See, I didn’t think it was all that important at the time, but there was this woman. One of our gang got locked up, and I figured out a way to get him out, but we needed a random dwarf to lie for us. I found a random dwarf, and she did the job, but then she latched onto me. We needed her to leave town, and I couldn’t shake her. Turned out, she was in love with me the whole time.” She frowned. “I broke her heart, and she left.”
Norman paused. “But she was important?”
“Yeah,” said Asp, looking sadly down at her hands. The sight of Wanda and Marina, dead in the alleyway, clouded her vision. “She ended up being a really big deal,” she said slowly, her voice tired.
“How?” If Asp had been a storyteller, she would have relished the curiosity and insistence in Norman’s voice. He clearly wanted more of her tale.
But I feel like trash right now, so it’ll have to be later. “Save the last bit for the final leg of the trip,” she said, feigning boredom. “Right now, I’m tired of talking.”
“Sorry,” said Norman, his voice sincere.
Asp frowned. “You’re fine, Norman. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just hard sometimes to talk about . . . about the worst things that have ever happened to you.”
“Oh!” said Norman. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she reassured him. “I promise it has a happy ending.”
Norman laughed. “Hiding in the back of a bumpy wagon except to talk your way past highwaymen is a happy ending?”
Asp laughed too. “Right now, it seems like a fairy tale.”
—
The sun had begun to set, and the wagon headed on into its fading light. Norman turned around.
“There’s a couple caravans pulled onto the side of the road up ahead. It’ll be our safest way to spend the night.”
Asp nodded. “Will I be safe with them? Or do I need to be someone else?”
Norman cocked an eyebrow. “Someone else?”
Asp pulled Delia’s reporter cap from her bag and donned it, stuffing her hair up into it. In a raspier version of the voice she had been using during the trip, she said, “I could be a reporter making their way abroad with the help of a traveling merchant.”
“A reporter?”
“Yeah, like I go around and circulate news. A reporter.” She stared back at him. “So that you don’t have some illegal prisoner?”
Norman’s eyes light up. “Oh, yeah, uh . . . that would probably be best.”
Asp smiled. “Okay then, two things: first, call me Delia until we’re alone again, and second, I need you to turn around and keep your eyes on the road for a minute.”
Norman looked at her quizzically. “But the road’s nice and even in this part of the woods. I can drive.”
Asp laughed politely. “I need to change clothes, Norman. I’m asking for privacy.”
Norman blushed and turned around. “My eyes are glued to the road, Delia,” he said. “Trust me.”
Asp verified that his gaze was forward and quickly changed into Delia’s red-and-green dress, grabbing her inkpen and notebook. In a small steel mirror, she checked that her hair was all tucked away and mentally reviewed Delia’s information. It’s been over a year since I was Delia. Focus. Delia Violet, reporter from Lowglen, always helpful, principled. She breathed deeply. I can do this.
The wagon bumped and pitched as Norman reined the horses off the road. Asp could hear the growing chatter of voices and the crackle of a campfire, and the scent of road food wafted into the wagon. Norman hopped down and tended to the horses before calling for Delia. Asp climbed out of the wagon and surveyed the scene.
There were perhaps two dozen people, mostly humans and dwarves, who milled around the campsite happily talking about travels, plans, and family. Asp climbed down from the wagon and cautiously approached them alongside Norman.
“Hey, folks,” called Norman. “You mind if we camp with you tonight?”
A tall human in a plain yellow dress nodded. “Make yourselves welcome–more of us means less threats. You can have some dinner if you pitch in a cap for each of ya.”
Norman rubbed his stomach. “I do have some rations in the wagon, but what you’re cooking smells mighty nice.” He turned to Asp. “You want some dinner, Delia?”
“I believe I do,” she said in her Delia voice. She turned to the woman who had greeted them. “Did you, by any chance, encounter a pair of highwaymen with pikes recently? We were set upon earlier today just a few miles back.”
The woman’s face grew fierce. “We saw them approaching us from our lead wagon, but they retreated when the rest of the caravan came into view. Cowards.”
Norman laughed nervously. “They didn’t seem entirely cowardly.”
“You dealt with them?” asked the woman. “Alone?”
Norman laughed again, even more nervously. Shit, he’s just realized he can’t tell them how we got past the highwaymen. Jump in.
“I used an old trick I learned from my early days traveling,” said Asp confidently. “You make them think you’re under the protection of someone they respect. It may not be the most honest tactic, but it can save you from a beating.”
The woman in the yellow dress laughed in disbelief. “You talked them out of attacking you? What is it you do?”
“I’m a reporter,” said Asp matter-of-factly. “Delia Violet. I travel around and publish information on injustices. It can help to spread awareness and create change.”
The tall woman smiled in response and held out a hand to shake. “Lyla Riddenour, clothier. And where are you headed now?”
The only civilized land I’m not wanted in. “Afira,” she pronounced carefully.
Lyla burst out laughing. “Well, you’ll have no shortage of injustices there!”
Norman laughed. “I’m famished, so I’m gonna go get some dinner. I think I saw mashed potatoes over there.” He headed for the campfire.
Lyla turned to Asp. “You have traveled far, little one,” she said gently. “Eunax is a long ways away.”
“It truly is. But there’s so much world to see.”
“And you’ve likely seen a lot of it. Tell me, Delia, why do you travel?”
Asp blinked a few times. The truth isn’t gonna work here. What can I say? “A reporter’s work is never done, you know, and even if you saw everything in the world, there would be something new by the time you were done.”
“A restless, dutiful spirit,” said Lyla. “We’re kindred spirits, you and I. Every few years, I throw away everything and start over.”
On purpose? What’s wrong with her? “What did you do before you were a clothier?”
“I built furniture. Before that, I taught young schoolchildren. Before that, I was a housepainter. And I got my start as a guard.” Lyla flashed a big smile.
The hair on Asp’s neck stood up. Stay calm. She’s not a guard anymore, and she doesn’t know anything. Right? “Wow, you’ve done it all.”
“You learn something from each job,” said Lyla proudly. “Making furniture, you get a good understanding of space and how things are as physical objects. Teaching, you get real patient and thorough. Being a housepainter, you learn structure, you learn to be consistent.” She stared at Asp. “And being a guard, you learn how to spot a liar.”
She doesn’t know anything. Not for sure. “My, I bet that’s pretty useful!” Asp tried not to sound too enthusiastic. “Must help in all kinds of business.”
Lyla leaned in. “It does. And if you take even one ounce of what ain’t yours from my people, you’re gonna see the other thing I learned to do as a guard.”
Play dead. I don’t have any angle, so just play dead. Asp spoke quietly, her hands moving quickly. “Okay, look, I’m not Delia, I’m not a reporter, but I’m also not a threat. I’m on the run. The last thing I want is trouble. I don’t want anything from you or your people. I just want to get off the Myriad.”
Lyla stared back mercilessly. “Tell me your real name and why you’re running, and I won’t tell that newtkin with you who you are.”
Asp smiled. “Oh, he already knows, so that won’t be necessary. I’m Blossom Goodfield, and I’m running because I got involved in a nasty scheme back in Strey, and the guards here caught wind of it. So I’m getting off to Afira, where I won’t be bothering anyone. It’s all honest work for me from now on.”
Lyla considered this, then nodded to herself. “Good. Keep it that way. Now, for my own peace of mind, stay by your wagon tonight.”
“Of course,” said Asp. “I’ll be sound asleep.”
Lyla gave Asp one final look and turned away, going to join her caravan. Norman came over to Asp with two plates of food, Norman’s brimming with mashed potatoes and a thick gravy.
“You and Lyla seem to be getting along,” said Norman between scoops of mashed potato.
Asp laughed. “Absolutely. We’re best friends.”
Norman shot a sideways glance at Asp.
“I mean, second-best friends,” she corrected. “Obviously, you and I are best friends.”
Norman laughed. “I meant more like ‘it looked like you were having a nice conversation’ than ‘but what about me?’”
Asp rolled her eyes and finally took the plate of food. “Thanks. And it doesn’t really matter. We’ll go our separate ways in the morning.”
Norman cocked an eyebrow as he ate. “It was that bad?”
“She wasn’t exactly friendly, Norman. But really, it’s fine. Nothing I haven’t earned several times over.”
Norman swallowed his food and looked at her in the low light. “I guess the end of your story doesn’t end with you very proud of your decisions.”
Asp sat motionless for a minute. I guess not.
When she didn’t respond, Norman finished his dinner and stood. “I’m gonna sleep on the ground next to the wagon so you can sleep inside.”
“No!” said Asp, surprised at her own energy. “No,” she said more calmly, “let me. I’ve been in the wagon all day, and you haven’t had a comfortable place to rest at all. You take the wagon, and I’ll curl up on the grass.”
Norman looked at Asp as though he were worried about her, and eventually, he smiled. “Thanks, Delia. You can wake me up and kick me out if you change your mind.”
Asp looked at him curiously. “Why are you so nice to me?”
Norman laughed and turned his gaze to Lyla. “Somebody’s gotta be.”
—
Asp was back in the wagon as it bumped along in the morning sun. She rubbed her back and sides, which ached from a night on the ground. Norman turned his head slightly, and she stopped, placing her hands before her. But he was only surveying the scene next to him, and when his head was forward again, she resumed her massage.
“Pyramis is just a bit down the road past this bend ahead,” he said. “Now’s probably the time for the end of that tale.”
Asp rubbed once more on a sore spot on her side and relaxed. “Okay. So, you remember everything from before?”
Norman chuckled. “Incredible life of crime, starting over in Strey, getting the gang to adore you, finding love, and then the mystery woman.”
“The mystery woman,” repeated Asp. “Wanda.” I didn’t mean to say her name–what the hell?
“Wanda? So she lied for the gang and you broke her heart–then what?”
Asp pushed the thought of Wanda’s bloodied corpse out of her mind. “Well, two things happened at the same time. It was about two years after getting settled–”
“Two years?” demanded Norman. “You’re skipping two whole years of adventures?”
“I stuffed everything from thirty years into a few minute’s explanation,” countered Asp. “Who’s telling this story?”
“You are,” said Norman in mock shame.
Asp smiled. “She came back.” She paused, looking for the strength to continue. She couldn’t, so she changed the subject. “And at the same time, the old boss brought on a new bruiser for our gang. Except this idiot wanted to ruin everything we had. Nothing I could say–nothing that anybody could say–would change his mind.” She swallowed hard and forced herself to continue. “So Wanda shows back up, and she’s gonna rat me out. She’s headed for the guards, and then my partner comes out of nowhere and kills her.”
“Holy shit!” cried Norman. “Just killed her?”
The image of Candace’s face–the determination and focus–as she stabbed Wanda was impossible to ignore. Asp breathed heavily, trying to control it. “Just killed her,” she repeated.
“Wow. She must’ve really loved you.”
Asp’s eyes shot up to Norman. “What?”
“I mean, to kill someone is one of the hardest things you could ever do,” reasoned Norman. “To do it to protect you . . . she must’ve loved you like crazy.”
Asp broke into tears.
Norman spun around. “Oh my gods, I’m so sorry!”
Asp shook her head. “It’s fine,” she managed. “She did. She loved me so much.”
“I’m sorry, Asp,” he said.
Asp sighed and sat up straight. “She did it to protect me, but it really messed me up for a while. Which was a problem, ‘cause the idiot new guy almost got us all killed. I had to . . .”
Norman waited, but when no further information was added, he asked, “Had to?”
A few tears spilled silently down Asp’s face. “I had to kill him to save everyone. All eight of us would have been dead. Splattered across our own walls, burned in the fire that destroyed our home, never found or identified. But I saved them all from that. I saved myself from that. It was the only thing I could do.”
“Of course,” said Norman warily. “She killed to save you, and you killed to save her.”
Asp sniffled. “Only she didn’t see it that way. She thought I saw her as a killer. And I couldn’t explain myself, Norman. I couldn’t say anything that made sense.”
“What did you want to tell her?”
Asp hesitated. Honesty had been easy enough up to this point, but this was different. After a minute of solid silence, she said, “That I hated myself. That I had always held myself above violence, above truly hurting people. That I hated our lives for putting me in that position.” She sighed again. “I wanted to tell her that I loved her so much that nothing could ever change that, and even feeling myself ripped apart from the inside would never tarnish her in my eyes.” She sighed. “Oh, Norman, I wanted to tell her that I’d be okay if she just gave me time, but even I wasn’t sure that was true. It was somehow the only thing that could have torn us apart, and it happened just as I got kicked out of the gang for killing the idiot, and that jackass boss of ours burned my names. I had nothing. Again.”
Norman whistled. “Damn, Asp. I’m so sorry. I know that there’s nothing that could ever undo all that, and I’m sorry you had to go through it.”
Asp laughed bitterly. “That was over a year ago, Norman.”
“There’s more?”
“That was all on Strey, remember? I spent a year here on the Myriad before I met you.”
Norman shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t know if we have enough trip left for another year’s worth of stories. I bet you got up to all kinds of crazy stuff. How does a con artist start over with nothing?”
Asp grinned. “That story is one I’ve already lived, and it looks like I’m going to have to live it again. But it’s not what happened in this story.”
“Well, c’mon–let’s hear the rest!”
Asp laughed quietly, shaking her head over what she was about to say, barely able to believe it herself. “So I jumped on a boat to the Myriad. Only problem was, my mom was on the boat.”
“Wait, your mom’s back? Where did she come from?”
“I hadn’t known it, but she was looking for me basically since I left. So we’re stuck on the same boat for the whole trip, and she just keeps talking to me. I was in disguise, you see, so she didn’t know it was me. ‘Oh, you’ve got her eyes,’ she would say, and I was petrified she knew. And basically all she said the whole trip is that she thinks I should own up to my crimes, how I should make things right. And it really got in my head.” Asp trailed off, thinking. “It made me think that I needed to do something about killing that idiot, and so when we got off in Despair, I headed right to jail and asked them to lock me up.”
Norman spat in surprise. “You what?”
Asp laughed wholeheartedly. “Yeah, I threw myself in prison. And I spent an entire year just sitting in a cell. No crazy stories–just sitting.”
“No way,” cried Norman. “You must have done something wild.”
Asp smiled. “It really was a quiet, uneventful year. I had a lot of time to think. I realized that my mom was wrong about justice, but so was I. I started thinking about how it’s okay to me to con someone but not hurt them, and how to other people, the opposite is true–it’s okay to hurt someone but not lie to them. I had so many little realizations, and what I eventually realized is that I wasn’t setting the balance. That takes actions–big actions. I was sitting, rotting away, losing my skills and my focus. That’s nothing. I could never set the balance that way. No, I need to do something important, something good, that will matter.”
“Uh, Asp?”
Norman’s voice stirred her from her train of thought. “Yeah?”
“Uh, do you mean setting the balance as in making up for what you’ve done, or . . . how do you mean that?”
Asp looked around, at a loss for words. “I mean, like . . . how I can make up for what I’ve done, yeah.”
Norman turned slowly to face her. “If you killed someone in self-defense, you don’t need to set the balance right. But you might need to for the cons.”
Asp chewed her lip thoughtfully. “I get that, Norman–I really do. But the thing that’s troubling me is, what kind of action would undo all of that?”
Norman laughed, trying to cover it before turning back to the road. “Why does it have to be one action? Couldn’t you just be a little good all the time?”
A little good all the time? But how do you do that?
“I dunno, Norman. I’ll try.” Asp glanced outside and saw that a burgeoning city lay before them, surrounded by dense forests and some sort of orchards.
“Good. So you were in prison, and then?”
Asp laughed. “I talked my way out of prison.”
Norman paused, then laughed uproariously. “Only you would tell that story that way. Anyone else would be relishing in the details of what phrases you used, but you just say, ‘I talked my way out of prison.’”
Asp laughed with him. “What? I did.”
Norman continued to laugh. “C’mon, give me the details!”
Asp grinned mischievously. “That tale will be my payment for my next passage. Will you be on Afira in a few months’ time to ferry me to Ioyosor?”
“Ioyosor?!” cried Norman. “Why would you go there?”
Asp laughed gleefully, recklessly. “Weren’t you paying attention, Norman? If things go bad in Afira, Ioyosor’s the only place I’m not wanted.”
Norman sighed. “All the more reason to be a little good when you start over.”
Asp laughed again with abandon. “Thanks, Norman. Say, now that we’re here, are you sure there’s nothing I can pay you for the journey?”
Norman shrugged. “Unless you can convince the Pyramis merchants that I have the right to sell these goods here, I think I’m okay.”
Asp looked all business. “Does that require written permission, by any chance?”
Norman furrowed his brow. “Yeah, it’s just a form that the city official fills out, but it takes several days to get one. I’d be out of coin by the time I could sell anything.”
Asp withdrew her inkpen and some paper. “Do you have a copy of one lying around?”
“Um, I have an expired one from this time last year when I was over this way for a while.” He plucked a piece of parchment from the pack next to him and handed it down to Asp. “Why do you ask?”
Asp began tracing and changing details. The cart bumped gently, and she froze to avoid errant ink on the page. She cautiously but quickly finished the document and folded it in precisely the same fashion Norman’s original was in. She placed the original in her pack. You never know what might come in handy.
“We’re here,” said Norman as the cart slowed to a halt. “Why did you ask about the permit?”
Asp smiled and handed him the paper as she climbed out of the cart. Surrounding them before the gates of Pyramis were enormous orange groves. They stretched for miles on the rolling hills around them, and dark forest could be seen in the distance where they’d come from. The road behind them was wide enough for three wagons to ride together, and a few wagons and carts bumped along. The scent of orange and the morning light made her smile.
Norman scanned it carefully, his eyebrows slowly rising. “You–but this–how did–it looks exactly like it!”
Asp laughed. “Good luck at the market, Norman, and thank you.”
Norman looked up from the paper, a huge grin on his face. “You saved me four days’ travel and probably made me double profits on this stuff. Thank you!”
“Norman,” said Asp solemnly, a hand on his shoulder, “don’t forget my story. You have saved me so much more. If we ever see each other again, I’ve got your back.”
“Right back at you.”
Asp smiled wryly for a moment. “Why did you really help me?”
Norman’s eyes grew wide. “I told you–because somebody has to.”
Asp shook her head. “That’s a line. It’s not the truth. Why did you help me?”
Norman looked down. “Part of me always wanted to be a daring criminal, but I never had the confidence for it. I was hoping you’d sweep me up in some adventure.”
Asp burst out laughing. “Well, you’re now a dishonest merchant who smuggles criminals across legal lines, and you got to be a part of talking our way past those thugs.”
Norman beamed. “You’re right–I guess I did get all that.”
“And do you want more now? Or did this cure you of your criminal fantasies?” Asp’s voice was sweet, comforting.
Norman laughed. “I think I’ve had enough. I hope you have too.” He smiled and looked down, then towards the coast. “You’re looking for a dwarf named Hrothgar–he’ll be at the piers. He’s part of a group of reformed criminals. You can trust them. He’ll get you to safety.”
“Thanks, Norman. Take care, and do something fun with your profits!”
“Thanks, Asp! Good luck with . . . setting the balance.”
Asp smiled. “Goodbye, Norman.”
Norman snapped the reins lightly, and the horses began to pull the cart away along a merchant’s route into the city, Norman waving from its seat as it went. Asp watched him go and faced the main road into the city. The city was a massive triangular patch of land with three enormous pyramids at its center: Pyramis. She looked at the far edge of the city on the coast and could faintly make out the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea.
I’m out of Despair, but I still need to make it to Afira if I want to be safe. Still, this is much better than my cell. I feel like I’m breathing fresh air for the first time in forever.
Asp picked her way towards the city proper, the sound of the biggest marketplace in the known world before her. Something told her that what lay ahead would greet her gently, and she hoped she was right.
You can read the next chapter here!
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